


His Reputation Precedes Him

by alexjanna91



Series: Dean Winchester, Patron Saint (Apple Pie Life) [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean Winchester, Gen, Humor, Law Enforcement, Monster of the Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9526472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjanna91/pseuds/alexjanna91
Summary: Detective Jeffery Hart had a monster in his interrogation room and a monster hunter on speed dial. He’d already had a hell of a day and it was just shaping up to get even worse.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to **angelwingz21** for giving me the idea for this fic. I know this has been a long time coming, but I hope you will still enjoy it just as much as you thought you would!

*

Hart was frustrated, tired, sweaty, and huffing and puffing like he was going to lose a lung. He definitely needed to go to the gym more often. The perpetrator was speeding like an Olympic runner and scaling buildings like a wanna-be parkour. The last time Hart had to work this hard for a simple misdemeanor arrest he was a greeny still diligently starching his uniform. 

The suspect was white, male, average height, brown hair, thin, and scampering up a fire escape like a monkey. There was no way Hart was going to be able follow him up. 

Turning to Detective Ashley Boltz, his younger, fitter, college athlete partner, he yelled, “I’ll cut him off,” and took a sharp turn refusing to think about how much his knees were going to hate him later that night. He ran around the building to head the perp off on the other side. 

Ashley climbed the rickety fire escape and leapt onto the roof like a gymnast. He could hear her shouting the mandatory “Freeze! You’re under arrest!” and rounded the corner to find a nice, solid, politely waiting staircase up the side of the building. 

The stairs weren’t doing his knees any favors, but Hart jogged up them nonetheless. He could hear the tell-tale sounds of a scuffle and there was no way he was going to wait patiently on the ground while his partner was getting into a physical altercation with a man a head taller than her. 

Finally at the top, Hart tossed a leg over the ledge and had his hand on his gun ready to draw it if he needed to. He shouldn’t have bothered because Ashley had the perp on his belly, a knee shoved in the perp’s back with his arms yanked back uncomfortably while she cuffed him and recited his Miranda rights with practiced ease. 

“Well, it seems you have everything under control.” Hart huffed unable to keep the half proud, half wry smirk off his face. 

Ashley glanced up at him and it was definitely the impromptu exercise that had her cheeks flushing pink. “He wasn’t so tough, Boss,” she yanked her prisoner to his feet. “Barely even had to tackle him. Went down like a house of cards.”

The perp struggled and tried to shake off Ashley’s iron grip on the cuffs and the scruff of his neck. “Hey! That hurts, lady! Police brutality!” 

Hart rolled his eyes and stepped forward to grab his arm and help Ashley drag him down off the roof. “Shut up, you idiot. Running will never end well for you.”

“I was framed, man! Set up, I tell you!” He yelled some more as they marched him to the ledge of the roof and tried to get him to step over without tripping all three of them over the edge.

“We caught you red handed. There is literally red spray paint on your hands.” Ashley gave him a light shake, a small shove and that’s when the situation got a whole hell of a lot more serious. 

The perp suddenly hissed, his lips pulling back to reveal black pointed teeth, hair sprouted from his cheekbones and brow, his head spun a one-eighty and he snapped his needle sharp teeth at Ashley threateningly. She just barely jerked her head back fast enough to avoid getting her nose bitten off. 

Before his brain even registered what he was doing, Hart had the perp, the _thing_ knocked to his knees, his head shoved unforgivingly against the roof’s ledge, and his arms yanked so far up his back it was now glaringly obvious that it wasn’t just his neck that was capable of unnatural flexibility. He had his hand holding the perp’s head down hard and unyielding against the concrete to make sure he couldn’t pull the same move and try to bite again. Hart threw a quick glance back at his partner.

“Ashley!” He demanded. 

“I’m- I’m okay.” She stared wide eyed at the thing -oh my god, it was an actual freaking _thing_!- trying to keep her voice steady. “He- It didn’t get me.” 

It was all real. Ashley refused to acknowledge the fine tremble that was running through her body. It was all real. Everything Dean Winchester had said, every unbelievable thing he’d ever told them, it was all real. Knowing intellectually, accepting the logic of the supernatural was one thing. Nearly getting a surprise nose job in the middle of an arrest was whole other thing entirely. 

She tore her eyes away from the reality altering proof still cuffed and struggling before her and looked at her partner with wide shocked eyes. “Jeffery? What do we do?”

Hart looked away from his young, so very young, partner and back down at the monster beneath him. 

“Fuck.” He was not looking forward to how absolutely FUBAR the rest of the day will be. He shoved away his knee jerk internal flailing at the supernatural and took control like the seasoned police detective he was. 

“Call him.”

For once Ashley didn’t make any kind of protest or disparaging remark. She just pulled out her cell and made the call. 

*

Dean walked into the police station like he belonged. He didn’t necessarily need to put on the act, but it was an ingrained habit. Hart was waiting for him at the front desk and it was immediately apparent that whatever the situation was it was serious. 

“Jeff.” Dean nodded at his friend.

“Dean.” Jeffery nodded back, his severe expression didn’t waver. “Let’s go to an interview room and I’ll explain.” 

They got a few glances as they moved through the bullpen toward interrogation, but nobody said anything. Dean had become a familiar face during his frequent outings to the local cop bar with Hart and Boltz. 

Hart kept to his silence until they were in a sound proof interrogation room with the door closed and locked behind them. 

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. “Should I be worried, Jeff? Are the Feds gonna be knocking down my door anytime soon?”

It took a moment for Hart to answer, momentarily confused by the question. He’d been so focused, so distracted by the situation he had on his hands that he hadn’t realized what locking Dean in an interrogation room would look like to the other man. 

“No! No, this isn’t about that. This has nothing to do with your record.” He rushed to allay Dean’s concerns because the look on Dean’s face was reminiscent of a predator backed into a corner. Hart had no desire whatsoever to see how Dean would react to that particular scenario.

He turned his attention back on the matter at hand and regained his mask of professionalism. 

“I called you in because I’ve got some kind of creature sitting in the next interrogation room and I need to know how to handle it.” 

Dean blinked in surprise before his expression hardened. “Give me the sitrep?”

“We were bringing him in on a vandalism charge,” Hart explained. “We chased him for a couple of blocks before Ashley finally cornered him on a roof and got him in cuffs. We started to escort him down to the ground when he suddenly sprouted fur and fangs and his head spun around in a one-eighty. He almost bit Ashley’s nose off.”

Dean furrowed his brows in concentration as he mentally ran through the multitude of monsters that met that vague description. 

“Was there anything else you can tell me? I can think of about thirty fuglies fitting that description just off the top of my head. I need to narrow it down a bit.” 

Jeffery racked his brain. “His teeth were black and pointed. He seemed to be way more flexible than a human. When I yanked him away from Ashely and put him on the ground I should have dislocated his shoulders, but I almost pulled them all the way up past his head.” 

“It didn’t seem unnaturally strong?” Dean asked.

“No.” Hart shook his head. “I didn’t have any problem physically restraining him. I just had to worry about his head spinning around to bite me.”

Usually the really dangerous monsters were all preternaturally strong and the description of the thing’s teeth seemed less rend human flesh from bone and more nibble on small furry animals. The fact that it decided to run instead of fight was a pretty good indicator of the monster’s threat level.

“What was it arrested for again?” 

“We caught him spray painting graffiti on the side of a building.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Just graffiti? No knocking over a convenience store or jumping people in alleys?” 

Hart shook his head. “No, just graffiti.” 

“Well, that narrows it down a bit.” Dean ruffled a hand through the hair at the back of his head his stance relaxing. “I think it’s probably some kind of trickster, but I’ll have to see it to make sure.” 

“Uh, yeah.” Hart blinked at the abrupt flip from dangerous hunter to nonchalant monster expert. “This way, I’ll show you.”

They exited the interrogation room and walked the short distance to the one right next door. Hart unlocked and opened the door stepping into the room first. 

The perp, the monster, was still cuffed to the table in the center of the room sprawled as comfortably as possible while still sitting in a chair nailed to the floor. It looked up, saw Hart and immediately started complaining loudly. 

“Hey! This is unconstitutional! I want a lawyer! You can’t keep me here! No one will believe-”

Dean stepped out from behind Hart and the monster nearly swallowed its tongue. Its eyes widened to the literal size of saucers and its appearance abruptly shifted to reveal the monster beneath the disguise.

“Oh shit.” It jumped to its feet and tried to throw itself back from the table. It only succeeded jerking its hands in the cuffs hard enough to bounce back into the table. Stumbling, it struggled to keep its feet and Hart noticed that its legs actually bent backwards at the knees like a bird’s. 

That was almost more disturbing than the rotating head.

“Hey, man! I didn’t do nothing! Please, man, don’t kill me! It was just a little spray paint. I ain’t never hurt no body!” The monster struggled frantically against the cuffs and scooted as far away from Dean as it could get while still attached to the table. 

Hart glanced back at Dean curiously. Dean had an eyebrow raised bemused. 

“You know who I am?”

The thing gave a little whimper. “You’re Dean Winchester, man. Every monster knows you.” 

“Huh.” Dean’s lips quirked up in amusement. “That’s a new one on me.”

Hart looked between his friend and the supernatural monster incredulously. Just how good did Dean have to be at his job for “every” monster to know and fear him? Scarily good, Hart figured.

“Please, Mr. Winchester. It was just some graffiti, I won’t do it again. Swear on my mother’s grave.” The monster begged its eyes wide and watery. Hart figured it was trying to look harmless, but it just succeeded in looking even freakier. 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “We both know you didn’t have a mother, dude. You popped out of the ground like a weed.”

Hart felt his eyebrows go up. If a pointy toothed, Gumby monster with reversed joints and facial fur wasn’t weird enough it just had to pop out of the ground like a weed. 

“Okay, so I don’t have a mother, but seriously, man. I don’t hurt no body. I mean, I show hobos the best spots for shelter. That’s not even illegal!” It jiggled its cuffs some more still blinking at Dean pitifully. “Please don’t kill me?” 

Dean was frowning in thought and Hart was trying to keep all of his questions to himself. He wasn’t expecting a monster to have a humanitarian streak and he definitely wasn’t expecting the mere sight of Dean Winchester to strike fear into the hearts of supernatural creatures everywhere. Then again, he’d known for a while that there was way more to Dean than just a babysitter and a monster hunter. He’d just been trying really hard not to think about it. 

Finally Dean shook his head still looking amused and gestured for Jeffery to move toward the door so they could talk in a modicum of privacy. 

“Well, at least I know what kind of monster it is now.” 

Hart glanced back at the monster staring at them unsubtly trying to eavesdrop. 

“And that would be?” He trailed off expectantly. He didn’t really want to know, didn’t really want to keep expanding his knowledge of the supernatural, but he needed to know. The thing had broken the law and Hart was going to try and fulfill his duty as an officer of the law as best as he could in spite of the current circumstances.

“It’s a hobgoblin,” Dean explained. “They’re a kind of trickster. Usually they just make annoying harmless mischief, but they’ve been known to help out people down on their luck if the mood strikes them.”

“What do I do with it?” He hesitated to ask, something about the thought of killing a monster with a soft spot for the homeless didn’t sit well with him.

Dean shrugged. “They grow out of fields of flax. Just take it out to the park and dump some linseed oil on it and it’ll melt back into a patch of flowers.”

Apparently it could hear them just fine, because Hart’s graffiti monster whimpered and whined “Oh, come on, man. That’s harsh.”

Suddenly, the monster wasn’t just a creature, it was a person. It defaced buildings like a rebellious teenager and it helped the homeless stay out of the elements. If the creature had been a human he’d picked up it’d get a misdemeanor and a few hours of community service. 

Jeffery was a cop down to his bones and he had only killed in the line of duty when his life or the life of someone else was on the line. A weak trickster that wasn’t a threat to anything but a brick façade didn’t deserve to be put down. 

“Are you saying I should kill him?” Hart ask Dean Winchester, the man the monsters were afraid of.

Dean zeroed in on him, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Are you saying you shouldn’t?”

“If he were human he’d get a fine and a few hours of community service. He hasn’t hurt anyone and I don’t think he deserves to be put down,” Jeffery responded, his voice filled with conviction and his authority as a cop.   
“You’ve never made an exception?” He asked the man that singlehandedly saved six children from a monster that wanted to eat them. “You’ve never let one go?”

Dean’s gaze went distant and Jeffery was sure he was remembering the time from before he moved into suburbia and became a daycare professional. He was remembering when he put his life on the line every day to save people and hunt things. 

A second later, Dean’s mind left the past and he focused back on the here and now. He held Jeffery’s gaze for a long moment before he nodded in acceptance. Turning back to the terrified monster, Dean’s body language shifted minutely and suddenly the heavy atmosphere in the room was gone.

He looked relaxed and unconcerned. The amusement from earlier was back in his expression as if they hadn’t just had a standoff to decide the fate of the graffiti monster. Jeffery almost got whiplash, the change was so fast.

“You pay the fine and you do community service and if I ever hear of you causing trouble again I’ll soak you in oil myself. We clear?” He pointed a stern, threatening finger at the monster. 

The monster slumped almost to the floor in relief. It looked like the only thing keeping him upright were his hands still cuffed to the table. 

“Yeah, clear, crystal, totally.” He nodded so hard his head was almost bouncing off his chest like a demented bobble head. “Thank you, man. I owe you. Like seriously, dude. You ever need some spray paint art just call me.” 

Dean snorted, rolled his eyes, and stalked out of the room without another word. Hart stared after him relieved and bewildered, dozens of questions running through his mind. 

*

It was a Friday so Jeffery finished up the last of his paperwork on the Good Samaritan graffiti monster and headed out before his captain could pile more work on him. 

After the surprisingly anticlimactic scene with Hart’s monster perp Dean tossed, “See you at the bar,” over his shoulder and disappeared before Jeffery could say anything. 

With that invitation (read: command) for an after work drink in mind, Hart wasn’t surprised to step into their regular drinking establishment and see Dean waiting for him. He’d already commandeered them two seats at the very far end of the bar out of the bartender’s usual route. 

Sliding onto his barstool, Jeffery ordered himself a whisky and looked at his friend expectantly.

Dean gave him an amused grin. “So, apparently my reputation precedes me. Who’d a thought?” 

Jeffery snorted. “That’s never happened to you before?”

“Nah,” Dean shrugged and sipped his whisky. “Usually it’s just demons and angels that recognize me.” 

Yeah, Jeffery wasn’t touching that one with a ten foot pole. No matter how many questions he had about the enigma that was Dean Winchester –sorry, _Dean Campbell_ \- there was no way he was going to delve into the implications of that last sentence. 

They fell into comfortable silence. One of the many questions he had from the day’s events came to the front of his mind. He looked over at Dean to ask, but paused when he saw the man’s expression had grown serious again.

“Her name was Lenore.” 

Looked like his questions were going to get answered anyway. Jeffery waited patiently for Dean to continue. Something about the tone of his voice cautioned him not to interrupt. 

“There were a couple of mysterious decapitations in this one small town and some supposed cattle mutilations,” he said, voice pitched so it wouldn’t carry. 

“We thought it was probably a cult doing some kind of ritual or maybe a demon, but when we broke into the morgue to get a better look at the bodies we discovered they weren’t human.”

Dean spoke like he was just discussing an interesting case with a colleague. Shop talk, the kind Jeffery had engaged in with his fellow detectives countless times. 

What snagged Jeffery’s attention, apart from decidedly supernatural content to the story obviously, was the “we”. Of the months he’s known Dean Campbell he never once mentioned the other half of the Winchester duo on the FBI’s most wanted. His brother Sam. The glaring absence of the younger Winchester brother from his supposedly permanent place at Dean’s side told a tragic story. He thought it was safe to assume that the only reason Dean was even sitting next to him in a cop bar and not on the road killing evil things was because Sam was dead.

“Someone was taking out a nest of vampires and they were being sloppy about the cleanup.” 

Jeffery ignored the way learning one of the most famous Hollywood monsters ever was actually real made him lightheaded and determinately decided not to ask if they sparkled. He didn’t think he could take it if the answer was yes. 

“The other hunter, fucking crazy asshole,” Dean sneered, “claimed to be the vampire slaying expert and had been tracking the nest halfway across the country. Bodies weren’t dropping and the dead livestock didn’t add up, so Sam, the giant geek, kept digging.”

Dean downed the last of his whisky and waved for another. He waited until the bartender had moved off unto another customer before continuing the story. 

“Turns out they were freaking vegetarian vampires,” Dean said like he was still mystified by the very idea. “They only fed off livestock and had plans to start a farm or something to become self-sustaining like a bunch of blood sucking hippies.”

Jeffery had to admit that he was a little incredulous as well. Just when he thought the world couldn’t get any weirder. 

“Of course Sam gave me the freaking puppy dog eyes and I had to convince the other hunter of the error of his ways.” Jeffery got the impression that “convince him of the error of his ways” translated to beat the crap out of him. He didn’t ask for clarification feeling it was better not to know the details. 

“Lenore was the nest mistress. She was recruiting vampires to go vegan because it was safer. She figured if they weren’t feeding off of people there would be no reason for hunters to come after them.” Dean took a casual sip of his whisky and shrugged. “So we let them go and true to her word they never showed up on our radar again.”

Jeffery digested that story along with the rest of his whisky and ordered another one. Even though Dean acted unaffected by the memory there was a certain edge about him warning against any more questions. He figure it was safe to assume that making monster killing exceptions was a touchy subject and Jeffery was completely fine with not pressing his luck. 

“So,” Dean looked at his friend with another wry smirk, all tense atmosphere swept away. “How’d you like your first encounter with a supernatural freak?”

Rolling with the change of subject, Jeffery let out an only mildly hysterical chuckle. “Well, nobody died so I’m gonna say not too badly.”

Dean threw his head back in a laugh and clapped a hard hand on Jeffery’s shoulder. “There you go. Just keep looking on the bright side, Jeff, and you probably won’t go batshit crazy.”

Groaning, Jeffery downed his second glass of whisky and waved hurriedly for another. “Oh God, I’m doomed.”

Sitting in his favorite bar, drinking good whisky and listening to Dean’s deep laughter, Jeffery finally relaxed, the stress of his utterly insane day melting away. Maybe, he’ll actually survive a friendship with Dean Winchester. 

Maybe.

*

End.


End file.
